


Draco Malfoy and the Philosopher's Stone

by MyIdentityIsClassified21



Series: Cloaks, Wands, and Daggers: An MCU and Harry Potter Crossover Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, BAMF Draco Malfoy, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Loki, BAMF Ron Weasley, Banter, Bashing of characters due to first person pov and misconceptions, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Companionable Snark, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Cursed Loki, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger friendship, Draco Malfoy-centric, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Gender Issues, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Severus, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy bromance, Hela is a child, Homophobia, Homophobic Asgardians, Homophobic Language, Intelligent Draco Malfoy, Lady Loki, M/M, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Memory Alteration, Memory Charms, Memory Magic, Mentions of distant parents, Mentions of neglect, Mentor Dumbledore, Mentor Loki, Mentor Remus Lupin, Odin is a horrible dad okay, Odin's A+ Parenting, Odin's Bad Parenting, Odin's Parenting, Odin's parenting needs a warning label, POV First Person, Parent Loki, Past Male Pregnancy, Past Mpreg, Pre-Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Pre-Thor (2011), Professor Loki, Protective Draco, Protective Harry, Protective Ron Weasley, Racist Asgardians, Ravenclaw Draco Malfoy, Sarcasm, Sarcastic Severus, Severus Snape and Lady Loki friendship, Sexism, Sexist Asgardians, Shapeshifter Loki, Some Slytherins are good, Spells & Enchantments, born intersex Loki, characters have their biases and preconceived ideas, eventual friendship between Ron and Draco, first person alternating POV, future Lady Loki/Draco Malfoy pairing, hints of Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, maybe preslash, original characters as enemies, protective severus, this will change as the series progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5183762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyIdentityIsClassified21/pseuds/MyIdentityIsClassified21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few weeks before Draco Malfoy’s first year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry starts, Draco overhears his father plot the death of a fellow student with some former Death Eaters who evaded capture. It isn’t just any student his father plans on killing, though: it’s Harry Potter, the boy who as a baby, survived a killing curse and somehow vanquished the Dark Lord Voldemort… and Lucius Malfoy plans to use his own son to deliver the boy to him, by attempting to get Draco to befriend Harry. Determined to avoid being sent to Azkaban as an accessory for murder, Draco sets out to foil Lucius’ plan and alerts Dumbledore to the death threats.</p><p>Draco realizes he chose the opposite side of his parents in a war that very well may break out, now that some form of Voldemort is after the Philosopher’s Stone and it’s being kept in the castle, Draco’s tasked with keeping Harry Potter out of trouble and protected, and the Golden Trio is convinced that Draco’s godfather is after immortality. Should make for an interesting first year, even without a detention in the Forbidden Forest that results in finding a half-starved young woman and her child who claim to be Loki and Hela, banished from Asgard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Moment The World Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Loki won't arrive until the middle of this book.
> 
> I also don't update regularly, so if you like this, bookmarking or subscribing is a great idea if you want to know when I update. Also, kudos and comments are spectacular, loved, and appreciated. 
> 
> Series will go up in rating probably in the sixth installment. The first five books will remain T, then sixth will jump to M. T is mainly for crude language and canon-typical violence (violence of a magical sort).
> 
> Also, I'm looking for a beta with:
> 
> \- a Google account (for google drive and because I organize series with the Google sites, and prefer to keep that private) and email, or willing to set one up.  
> \- Has written on this site before. (This is a plus, so I can see how you write)  
> \- Knows the Harry Potter books well enough  
> \- Willing to work with my outlines (This is a must). I outline every book: first is major events, then a rough sketch of the chapters in chronological order, important information (such as a Hogwarts schedule... yes, I write out Hogwarts schedules, when each event takes place in the book, characters and any information needed about them), and finally, chapter-by-chapter. This helps me see what I still need to add from the books. I need them at least checked over to see if I left anything out.  
> \- Can edit and revise, and remain civil. I occasionally need a kick-in-the-ass email if I don't update for a few weeks. 
> 
> Contact if interested at:  
> myidentityisclassified21@yahoo.com

**Malfoy Manor**

The Library 

July 29th, 1991 

9:26 pm 

**_Draco's POV_**

**... ... ...**

Ice clinked as my father poured drinks from his study. Even from my spot sprawled in the grand library, the loud chatter of Sophia Greengrass and Nicolette Zabini was distractingly loud and utterly annoying, despite our separate rooms… of course, mother forgot to close the library door. Again. Granted, the rooms _were_ connected.

A loud bark of laughter from Alexander Nott, a snort from Cai Parkinson, and a shout of laughter from Adelina Parkinson was enough to make me grit my teeth and break my concentration from my book. I massage my temples, trying to contain myself: father definitely wouldn’t like it if I interrupted the small gathering of his allies to ask them to be quiet or move.

“I thought we were here for a reason, Lucius. Not that I haven’t been enjoying myself,” John Avery drawls, his voice loud so everyone would be silent, “but I’d enjoy myself a lot more with the Potter brat dead and buried, and the Ministry in the Dark’s pocket once more.”

I stand up quietly, slowly and carefully stepping over the wooden floorboards to the door so I wouldn’t miss anything, taking care to stay out of sight. I had to hear this. 

The Potter boy… he’d be my age now. Avery wants to kill a kid? What would they possibly gain from a high-profile case that would end in a manhunt and ten people in Azkaban for life? There’s no way the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or the Aurors would let Harry Potter’s killers roam free. The first on the list of suspects would be Death Eaters from the first war and dark supporters. There’s no way the Minister would let them mess up, either.

“We all would, John. To business, then.” Father agrees to the topic change, then pauses. The click of a lighter sounds in the now silent room, and fragrant tendrils of cigar smoke snake into the spot where I stand in stunned disbelief. How could my father be so stupid? “We all have children at Hogwarts, where Potter will be starting his first term. All I ask is that we use our children to get close to him, have them invite Potter over for a meal. We’ll take care of the rest after our children leave: killing him, disposing of the body. They won’t know anything.”

I take advantage of the chatter that speech causes after and slip away. When I get far enough, I race to my bedroom and close the door. I sprawl out on my bed, close my eyes, and try to figure out what to do.

I knew I couldn’t go through with letting Potter near my father, not when I knew he was going to die. Potter’s just a kid. My age. He hasn’t even learned his first spell, and they want him dead. They want him dead. Not just my parents. Ten fully trained wizards and witches I know personally, former Death Eaters who evaded capture and survived war, and they’re after an eleven year old boy. He’d stand no chance, even with my help and his classmates. We needed adults. Some at Hogwarts… the headmaster!

Albus Dumbledore would need to know about this, to forbid Harry from going anywhere he could get killed, and to get some people to protect him. I hastily scrawl a letter out, detailing the threats on Potter’s life and who was involved in the plans.

I hastily scrawled every detail from the conversation I remembered, never knowing exactly how much the world- and I, would change as a result of this letter. 

**... ... ...**


	2. Unease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's letter results in an early morning gathering of former Order of the Phoenix members, Hogwarts, and Draco himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following changes have been made to the first chapter as of 11/12/2015:
> 
> 1\. Minor edits.  
> 2\. Tag changes. Severus Snape is now a major character. Some additional tags may be triggering when read, so please read through all tags carefully.  
> 3\. Summary changes to reflect Loki's role. Wording has been modified so major parts could be fit in.
> 
> To the second chapter as of 11/22/2015:  
> 1\. Minor edits and a huge change in the end of the chapter.

**... ... ...**

**  
****Malfoy Manor  
** **Wiltshire, England  
** **Draco's bedroom  
** **July 31st, 1991**

**5:47 am**

**_Draco's POV_**

**... ... ...**

My owl, Aella, rapped at my window, the tapping noise rousing me from my bed. I opened the window, and Aella proudly showed off the letter and package she returned.

"Good job, girl. Go on, get some sleep." I yawn.

The note simply read: _Hold onto the chain at 6 am. We'll discuss the matter in my office._

In the package was a simple silver chain. Going by the note, it was a Portkey.

My stomach seemed to plummet as I remembered exactly why Dumbledore was writing to me. My movements were quick and mechanical as I dressed, combed my hair, and brushed my teeth.

I placed the chain in my hands, and waited for the Porkey to activate,

********Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
An Unplottable location in Scotland  
The Grounds near the Gamekeeper's Cottage  
July 31st, 1991 6:00 am  
Draco's POV 

I planted my feet firmly on grass, determined to land correctly. I didn't fall, but even so, I took a few minutes to ensure my stomach was settled and my balance was steady. Finally, I look up, catching my first glimpse of the castle. It towered eight stories high, with many towers and turrets, made of stone and magic, clearly of a work of a wizard in the Early Middle Ages. Magic thrummed around me. It was an awe-inspiring sight, I could admit that much to myself, and even though I had seen the castle before (having the Potions Professor at Hogwarts as a godfather had plenty of perks, though I worked hard for every one of them. Severus didn't believe in undeserved rewards), I couldn't help but admire it as I strode up to the Entrance Hall's grand double doors. Severus was at the entrance, waiting for me. He immediately pulled me into an embrace, hand going to my wrist to count out my pulse.

"You're that worried, Sev?" I ask, nonplussed. He had started checking my pulse after I nearly drowned at age five, when I wandered out of a luncheon and into father's pool. It was lucky that Severus had followed me and seen me when I had fallen in. It was reassuring and comforting to him when he thought I was in danger, so aside from after an occasional nightmare of his, he had stopped years ago.

"You are not required to do any more than you have already done, Draco." Severus told me, voice almost desperate as he clutched me tighter for a little while longer. "You've done plenty of good already by alerting the right people. Don't let anyone convince you onto a path you are not ready for."

He slowly released me, eyes old and haunted with grief and loss. In that moment, he looked twice his age.

"I know, Severus." I tell him.

"I did. Joining the Dark cost me everything. Joining the _war_ cost me everything. I will do as much as I can to protect you, but you will have to learn to stand on your own and defend yourself soon enough. Sometimes, all you have is yourself to rely on, and it _has_ to be enough."

I reached out, hugging him again as comfort. 

"I can't promise you anything." I tell him, and Sev shudders once, then twice, a little hitching sob let out before he forcibly controls himself, wiping his eyes. It takes some time, but finally, he's fully in control, eyes just a little bright.

We walk together, silently the rest of the way to Dumbledore's office: up on the eighth floor, the tower entrance guarded by gargoyles.

"Lemon drop." Severus says, and they leap aside, letting us through. We climb another few flights of stairs, until we reach the door, through which we could hear a conversation.

"I still say the boy is too risky to involve." A gruff male voice grouses from inside the room.

 

Severus' mouth sets into a thin line, anger making his eyes glint, and his hand drops to my shoulder in a protective gesture. I winced, knowing that he'd have to had listened to worse for a long period of time in order to get so furious. He abruptly pulled the door open, causing heads to turn and in some cases, wands to be drawn. Immediately upon recognizing Severus, they were stowed away, though there were a few glares in reprimand.

"Intriguing, the way your mind works, Alastor. Instead of the most logical conclusion, that a boy stumbled onto something far more dangerous than he could handle alone, you jump to the risks an eleven year old _child_ poses to a group of people who fought Voldemort and his Death Eaters and won. Truly astounding." Severus sneered, sarcasm and venom dripping from every word as he guided me into the room and to a chair directly across from the Headmaster's at an oval shaped meeting table. He sits to my left, hand still on my right shoulder.

A man with an electric blue mechanical eye, a nose that had a good chunk taken out of it, a wooden peg for a leg, stood up, his heavily scarred face flushing red with anger: Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, a fairly famous retired Auror, or Dark Wizard Catcher, if I remembered right. Lost his eye in a fight taking down Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort's right-hand and rumored lover, who still is in Azkaban.

"Severus, Alastor, we have an urgent matter we need to discuss. Draco has nothing to gain from lying about this, Moody. Moody is suspicious of everyone and everything, Severus, don't take it personally." Minerva McGonagall, a tall and intimidating woman with brown hair in a tight bun, shrewd and intelligent eyes, sighs in exasperation. 

"Although it may not seem like it, we are very grateful for your warning, Mr. Malfoy." Albus Dumbledore tells me, blue eyes solemn from underneath half-moon spectacles. He claps his hands together, and any chatter immediately dies down. "Draco, do you know what a Pensieve is?"

A few men leave the room, presumably to get the item in question. 

"Yes. It's a piece of equipment made to view and store memories. I assume you're going to have me extract the memory of my father planning the murder of Harry Potter?" I ask, holding out my hand for Severus's wand, which he passes to me. At Albus' nod, I remember all I can of the memory, and raise the wand to my temple, slowly pulling away a silvery strand.

A man with chestnut brown hair, a tan, and hazel eyes reaches for the wand in my hand. Severus nods his permission, and I hand the wand over, my memory still attached. He transfers the memory over.

"Edgar Bones is a Verifier for the Ministry's Department of Law Enforcement. He examines memories for criminal trials in order to determine if a witness is telling the truth, and if the memory is worth putting in court." Severus explains as the man dunks his head into the Pensieve. 

Suddenly, it hits me exactly what I've done. I betrayed my family for a person I don't even know. My insides squirm in guilt, and my eyes must have looked horrified and lost, because the man to my right, tall and in need of good regular meals, with light brown hair already graying despite being relatively young, perhaps mid-thirties, ragged robes, and exhausted-looking warm brown eyes with deep circles under them looks at me in concern.

"We won't try and prosecute Lucius unless he does something to Harry. Strategically, it's a short-term solution for a problem that will only grow as Harry gets older. Lucius isn't the only one who wants Harry dead, and he hasn't made any move yet. If he does, we have to intervene." The man correctly guesses what was scaring me.

"But in the meantime, you'll be happy to use my godson to get information that might save your godson if Draco isn't found out, won't you, Lupin?" Severus' voice dangerously quiet, deceptively calm as he gets only when he's about to lose it with someone he hates. 

"Draco has to live with Lucius during the holidays. All we're asking is if he hears something that might be dangerous, for him to report it to us." The man, Lupin, says reasonably. 

"I... I can do that." I tell the group.

"You don't seem certain." Moody comments snidely.

"He seems scared. I know I was too, the first time I turned my back on what my parents taught me." A woman far the far end of the table speaks up, and I look over, then my jaw drops in shock. Long, shining dark hair, heavily lidded midnight blue eyes, average height, with features like my mother's. This had to be-

"Aunt Andromeda?" I ask uncertainly. 

She nods. "I didn't know Narcissa kept pictures of me after I was disinherited."

"Made nightly propaganda easier to put in my head if I had a face to put with the name and story." I joke to break any tension, and she's startled into a laugh.

"Good to finally meet you. If things go south at your parents house, you are welcome at my home to stay as long as you need. Of course, you can visit if you lie about where you're going." Andromeda tells me, smiling warmly. The man next to her, a redhead with grey eyes, who was smiling at me and holding her hand, had to be Ted Tonks.

Edgar Bones stands up suddenly from the Pensieve.

"It's real. I've made a copy for safekeeping." Edgar Bones says. 

The mood is solemn as Edgar recites Lucius' plot. Twelve guests are identified, most by me, some by Moody: Ares Mulciber, John Avery, Alexander and Lorelei Nott, Sophia and Conor Greengrass, Nicolette Zabini, Adelina and Cai Parkinson, Dylan Crabbe and Eric Goyle. 

"We need a list of people who might try the same tactics. Anyone who was rumored to be on the Dark Side, either as a supporter or an actual Death Eater, with children at Hogwarts. Anyone with family who might have been sympathetic, or who were Death Eaters. Anyone with a business that profited during the war. We'll run patrols outside Harry's home. Professor McGonagall will take Harry to Diagon Alley for shopping tomorrow. Amelia, can you arrange for a Ministry car ride to Hogwarts for Mr. Potter?" Albus begins.

A cleared throat stops Albus.

"Should he be hearing this?" Moody eyes me distrustfully.

"If my goal was to let Harry die, I wouldn't be here. I would be at home, planning how best to get close to him in order to make sure father could kill him and get away with it." I finally speak up for myself. I look at Albus. "If I could make a suggestion? Why don't you hire some of the people here as extra staff, and have them patrol areas of the school when they can? That way, they only report to you, the Ministry can't interfere, and everyone thinks they're just tutors or assistant professors or professors?"

"That's not a bad idea." A tall, bald, deeply tanned man with brown eyes and in Auror robes says thoughtfully. "I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt. I could help with demonstrations for Defense, and look for an intern. If I'm around the castle, people will assume I'm going back and forth from the Ministry or I needed to talk with Dumbledore"

"If proper accommodations are given, and the safety of students is as certain as promised... I could tutor in History of Magic and Defense." Lupin seems hesitant.

"Quirinius suggested a preference for teaching the upper years. Would you be interested in teaching first, third, and fourth year?" The Headmaster asks. 

Lupin hesitates again. "I'd be there full-time anyway. Yes, I'll teach."

A few others volunteered to be tutors: Amelia Bones for Transfiguration and Charms, Andromeda for Potions and Herbology, Ted Tonks for Ancient Runes and Arthimancy, and the meeting ended shortly after. As everyone filed out, the Headmaster gestured for me to stay behind.

"That was a brave thing you did today, Draco. You should be proud of yourself."

"Thank you, sir." I reply.

"I think it may be wise to assign you personal tutors and extra lessons. You live in a viper's nest. If they ever find out what happened today, they will strike. Which is why I believe these books will be necessary for you." Albus tells me, handing me a bag.

I rifle through the books, one catching my eye immediately.

"The Mind Arts?" I ask.

"You'll find those lessons vital. Severus can help you should you need it, and on Saturdays, I expect you in my office from 3 in the afternoon until six. Sundays are for self-defense, which Severus will teach you. Any of the other teachers may add on lessons they feel you may need."

"Thank you, sir."

"Have a good summer, Draco. And thank you. You very well may have saved Harry's life."

I privately wondered what this would cost my own life. My stomach knotted nervously... I was just a first year, and I cast my lot in with the Light side, which hardly came out unscathed during the war. Judging by the uneasiness displayed by the people in the room, they anticipated some kind of mass attack.

"Headmaster? D'you... think that the Dark Lord is still alive? Or that my father believes he'll come back?" I ask the nagging question.

"Call him Voldemort. Fear of the name only causes fear of the thing itself, my dear boy." The Headmaster tells me. "As for your questions... yes, I believe Voldemort's defeat was temporary."

"Why? What evidence do you have?" I interrupt, horrified, heart hammering in my chest.

Dumbledore assesses me shrewdly. "There are ways to evade death, temporarily. Lord Voldemort would have been one to research the subject extensively... I did teach him at one point. I knew the boy he was, and if there's one thing he feared, it was the unknown."

"H-how? There has to be a way to kill him!" I had to admit, I was panicking at the idea of an immortal Voldemort. I could feel my blood draining from my face.

"He can be defeated, Draco. The war we waged was not a hopeless cause, and the deaths were not in vain. Your actions saved the boy who can defeat him. He's done it before, after all." Albus reassures me gently.

"That's enough." Severus says sharply. "You've terrified him, Albus."

"I'm fine!" I protest, hating being treated like a kid. I pause, then.

That's what I am. A kid. I'm not a warrior, or a spy, and frankly, I was far more anxious afterwards than reassured.

Severus took me home, and that night, I dreamed of the world ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m new to this site, so I’ve got a question for artists or fanfiction authors who have received fanart:
> 
> How do you request or receive fanart? I really, really would like to request cartoon drawings of scenes in this story, hopefully one for each chapter, and I don’t mind multiple artists or just one, as long as I get them. I’m horrible at drawing, otherwise I’d love to make them myself because I have the ideas (for example: in my idea for chapter one, cartoon-Draco stares in horror into a smoke-filled study, a smug Lucius detailing his plan to murder Harry Potter, brandishing his cane as if he’s about to bash someone’s head in with it). Please explain in a comment if you know, even if you can’t draw. If you can and are interested in drawing for this at any point, comment on the chapter you feel inspired by.


	3. Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Diagon Alley could lead to true friendship... if Draco lets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed how Draco looks to the movie version. I hate the 'rat-like' face and 'pale, pointed' features, and I'm not down with describing a character like that... except Pettigrew.
> 
> Also: I love comments. So, if you like this story and you know it and you really want to show it (or not, that's cool), comment soon.  
> (I helped out in a preschool. Forgive me for that lame beg for comments)
> 
> IMPORTANT: 
> 
> As of 11/22/2015, I updated the endings of chapters two and three. Please read them again if you haven't since 11/22/2015. This is a work in progress, so I will edit and revise as I go.

**Diagon Alley**  
**London, England**  
**August 1st, 1991**

**_Harry's POV_**

**... ... ...**

After Gringotts, Hagrid left me, looking rather green in the face, in front of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. I took a deep breath, calming my nerves... it was ridiculous to be scared of a little shopping, and it was just a uniform. From the sound of it, it's better than Stonewall and Smeltings. New black robes are better than huge, dyed grey cast-offs from Dudley, and far better than a maroon tailcoat, orange knickerbockers, a gnarled cane, and a straw boater, that's for sure. They might even fit me... 

And I'm still standing there, in the door of the shop. Alright, Harry, one foot in front of the other, there's a good lad. 

"Are you here for your uniform, dear? There's a boy your age getting his Hogwarts uniform too, right this way." A kind shop assistant headed over to me, and I trailed after her to a second stool. 

The first stool was occupied by a pale and slender eleven year old boy with platinum blonde hair and beautiful light grey eyes, obviously lost in thought, judging by the narrowed look at a random spot on the wall. Or, he was trying to figure out what else his magic could do... maybe he could see through walls? Or see ghosts? Or see the future? 

At any rate, the silence was getting awkward, so I coughed as I hopped on the stool. The boy jumped, dislodging the shopkeeper's grip on the measuring tape and earning a tisk of annoyance, and looked to me, eyes startled and apologetic. 

"Hogwarts too?" I ask. 

"Of course. Any idea of what House you'll be Sorted into?" He replies, smiling at me. 

I raise an eyebrow, curious and a bit lost. 

"Oh, right. A lot of parents like to keep their kids in the dark about everything to do with Hogwarts, so it's all new and exciting. A House is like a team. There's four of them: Gryffindor, for the brave and daring, Ravenclaw for those who enjoy learning and are intelligent enough, Hufflepuff for the loyal and hardworking, and Slytherin for the cunning and ambitious. You get sorted by a talking hat, and no, I'm not making this up: it has a limited ability to gather what type of person you are based on those traits, then it calls out your House. Everyone gets sorted, if you got into Hogwarts, you have enough magic to work with. The Sorting Ceremony is after the train ride. You belong to that House for all seven years of school, and there's a competition to see what House gets the most points collectively. You earn them by triumphs: answering a question right, performing a spell well, helping someone out, assisting a teacher, or any other way a teacher comes up with. You lose them by bad behavior, breaking rules, breaking curfew, being late, missing class, a bad answer, cheek, or some kind of failure, but it has to be really bad. Each House has their own hourglass, and the points are all added up at the end of the year for the feast and a house trophy." The boy informs me. 

"My parents are dead." I correct him. "I live with my aunt and uncle. They hate magic." 

The boy pauses, looking surprised for a few seconds, then apologetic. "I'm sorry, I assumed-" 

"It's fine. I never knew my parents. It's not like I can miss what I've never had." I tell him hastily, really not wanting to screw this conversation up, not when I'm really starting to like this boy. "You certainly know a lot about Hogwarts. So your parents are a witch and wizard? Did they teach you?" 

"Yeah. My godfather teaches me mostly... my parents are really busy. My mother is a ward mage: she crafts spells that protect homes, land, and occasionally the sea. You know how Muggles don't notice the Leaky Cauldron?" The blonde explains. His eyes light up when he talks about his godfather, then his lips quirk into a frown at the mention of his parents. He still seems proud of them, though. 

"Their eyes slide past it. So she makes spells like those?" I clarify. 

"And applies them to homes. She's brilliant. My father is the owner of a chain of Apothecary's, but his real love is harvesting ingredients and brewing potions. He helps supply places like Hogwarts, the Ministry's Research Division, and Saint Mungo's with top quality ingredients and potions, as well as the everyday citizen. He travels quite a bit to collect ingredients, then brings them back and grows them in greenhouses mother builds for him." The boy tells me. 

"Saint Mungo's?" I ask. 

"A wizarding hospital that treats people who are injured, maimed, or ill by magical means, or that have something wrong that can be treated easier with magic than the Muggle way." He explains. "I've always wanted to know: how to Muggles get treated for a bad injury?" 

I explain surgeries with as much detail from watching medical dramas on the telly as I could, delighting in the other boy's squeamish expressions and faces of disgust. 

A cleared throat from above us gets me to stop, and the shopkeeper looked at us both with an amused expression. 

"Your robes have been all finished for ten minutes, dears." The shopkeeper tells me, still snickering slightly. "In fact, Hagrid had to buy another ice cream for you because yours melted. He's waiting for you outside, with a present for your birthday." 

"The gameskeeper?" The blonde boy asks curiously, and I light up, delighted on being able to share something with a new friend who was so helpful to me. 

"He's been showing me around." I tell him. 

"Has his bill been paid?" He asks the shopkeeper, who shakes her head. "I've got it. What was the total?" 

The shopkeeper tells him, and Draco counts out both our bills. 

"It's part of your birthday present. Don't even think about protesting." Draco tells me. "I'll get you some other things too." 

"Part?" I squawk, surprised. 

"Part. You need it." Draco smirks at me, but his eyes are warm and fond, dancing with mischief. 

"Thanks." I tell him shyly. "I haven't even got your name." 

I hold my hand out for a shake, which he takes. 

"I'm Draco Malfoy." He seems oddly hesitant, grip loose enough to easily break, before I tighten mine and shake. Maybe not many people liked his family? 

The way he smiled, delighted at the continued handshake, made me smile back just as wide. 

"Harry Potter." I tell him. 

Draco looks stunned, then a bit sad. He lets go of my hand. 

"Harry... there's some things you'll learn in the Wizarding World. This might not make sense now, but... I really would have liked to get to know you better, but I can't." 

"Why?" I ask, stunned and hurt. Why would my name have anything to do with whether I can be friends with someone? 

Draco leans in and whispers, "My father supported the man who gave you that scar and killed your parents. He still does. I can't let him have access to you, because if he'd have his way, you'd be in a grave. Bye Harry. And I'm so sorry."

He vanishes into the crowd, leaving me behind, face pale, hands shaking... his words had chilled me to the bone despite the warmth of the summer sun shining down on me. I look around, nervously, wondering who else wanted me dead too.


	4. Loyalty (And Lack Thereof)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco uses the annual family ball in order to figure out where some of his best friends allegiances lie, and if he can shift them any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: As of 11/22/2015, the ending for chapters two and three have changed. Please read through them if you read the previous versions of the chapters.
> 
> Any artists reading this work? If so, care to make some fanart and link it to this fiction? Let me know in comments if you're interested and what chapters you're thinking of illustrating. I was hoping for chibi style characters or illustrations, but if you've got any ideas, let me know. 
> 
> Thanks for all the wonderful comments and subscriptions. Please keep it up, they make my day and inspire me to write more.
> 
> Narcissa's hairstyle is: http://bywilma.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/10-braid-hairstyle-tutorials-4.jpg

**Malfoy Manor's Library**  
**Malfoy Manor**  
**Wiltshire, England**  
**August 5th, 1991**

**_Severus's POV_**

I had to admit, Draco's actions had frightened me nearly as much as Dumbledore's responses. I had hoped the Dark Lord was gone for good, even as the logical part of me knew it was only a matter of time before he clawed his way back to life. The Dark Lord had always prided himself on his ability to adjust to any circumstance, and certainly dropped enough hints about finding a way to evade death itself when speaking to his Death Eaters. But now, my fears were confirmed, and Draco had placed himself as the Dark Lord's enemy. It wasn't as though I wanted him to be Dark... I wanted him as far away as possible, safe.

For that reason, I knew Draco had to be pushed to learn how to protect his mind as well as defend himself magically. Voldemort had always prided himself on breaking mental shields and protections, making a regular practice of performing Legilimency on his followers, navigating throughout our minds to our innermost fears, secrets and desires; always using them against us. Draco **had** to learn Occlumency, starting now. It was easy to convince Lucius to allow me to tutor him, since the Headmaster was accomplished in the mind arts as well, and every day since the meeting on the first was spent in the library with my godson, either reading, answering questions he had about the book, working on homework and the exercises involved. 

Luckily, Draco had picked up on my nervousness and to placate me (as well as make himself feel safe), had dedicated himself fully to learning. He was sprawled out on a library couch, still managing to appear elegant and poised from the years of training forced on him, an eyebrow raised as he reread a sentence. 

"There are two ways to defend your mind?" Draco asks, looking up. "Why doesn't it teach the second?"

"It's an introductory book. The second way is a complicated and lengthy process. Basically, you create what's known as a mindscape: a landscape that holds your memories and thoughts, that you design and protect by layering protection spells, curses, and wards, and organize yourself. If someone tries to invade your mind without your permission, they find themselves in your mndscape and have to navigate the traps in order to leave, or to find your secrets. The first step is figuring out a unique place that has natural protections: mine is a cave in the middle of a mountain, which is undergoing a constant blizzard. Thus, it's highly lethal all without protections, making less work for you." I explain. 

"Then why bother spending all this time meditating?" Draco asks, clearly fed up. 

"Because you aren't quite advanced enough to complete the process. We'll begin when you turn thirteen." I reply. "However, feel free to use that for motivation to learn. Clear your mind." 

With that quick, barely there warning, I raise my wand and cast "Legilimens!" 

Draco is obviously unprepared, and I cancel the spell after accessing the memory of the study. Draco glares, clearly annoyed at the lack of warning. 

"You have to focus, Draco. No one will give you a warning in real life, so I won't anymore. This will continue at Hogwarts as well." I point out. 

The lesson continues, and Draco doesn't manage to block me out quite yet. I didn't expect him to, but I assign him more work anyway... I want my godson to survive his childhood. After another thirty minutes, I end the lesson and ask him the question that's been on my mind for days. 

"Did you trust any of your friends with what you overheard?" I ask. 

Draco shakes his head, eyes downcast. His voice is hesitant, "I don't trust them without knowing they'd do the same for a fact. Could you maybe make some truth serums for them? I plan to get them alone during the ball we have for the end of summer and confront them with what our parents want to use us for. I want to see what they really would do, and if they would let their parents kill a kid their age, someone who considers himself their friend, I want their memory erased of the conversation." 

"You're in luck. I brewed some Veritiserum for my sixth year class. It should be ready in two days. How many people do you plan on asking?" I agree to the favor. 

Draco's sigh of relief and sudden smile makes me realize how much these secrets have been costing my godson already. He was going to lose his family, most of his friends, and his status in pureblood society if he's found out, and possibly his life as well. I just hope some of his friends are real... he doesn't need any more to worry about. 

"Astoria and Daphne Greengrass, Crabbe and Goyle, the Avery twins, Millicent Bullstrode, the Higgins brothers, Marcus Flint, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini. Ten... so thirty drops total. I plan on having butterbeer in my room, so if you could put the potion in the ice, I'd really appreciate it." Draco tells me. 

... ... ...

**Narcissa's dressing room**

**Malfoy Manor**  
**Wiltshire, England**

**August 9th, 1991**

**_Draco's P.O.V_**

Mother rarely had time for me, but one tradition has been kept since I could remember: I spent every afternoon before each gathering brushing then styling her hair. When I was little, all I was allowed to do was brush it, and I would watch her fingers deftly pull her golden-blonde hair up into an elaborate updo afterwards as she went over each step. As I aged, she guided my hands through the motions, then had me practice on her the days she was home and nothing was going on. Father didn't have any idea, or he'd have put a stop to it... he would think it was too feminine a hobby, but it was a bonding moment with my mother, where all was quiet and safe, where my mother and I were close, and I could confide in her... or I used to be able to. 

The silence is peaceful, though, and mother's breathing is slow and deep as I gently run my brush through her hair until it shines like gold and all the tangles from her braid before are gone. It lays like fine golden silk, down to her elbows, and I begin re-braiding it in preparation for an elaborate braided bun. Mother observes what I'm doing in the mirror, making a small sound of approval when she sees one of her favorite styles forming. 

"What has you so thoughtful, dragon?" Mother asks me, finally breaking the silence as I finish her hairstyle. She urns to face me, giving me a rare show of absolute focus.

"I'm nervous for Hogwarts. What if... what if I don't get into Slytherin?" I ask one of the questions I had. 

Mother frowns thoughtfully. 

"What other House do you think suits you?" 

"Ravenclaw." 

"I think your father would be disappointed... that being said, I believe you'd make us proud, regardless of the House you're sorted into, though I do hope you aren't a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw is a respectable House, even if it isn't as exclusive as it ought to be." Mother tells me, and I feel my stomach do a guilty squirm. "That being said... perhaps we should be more accepting, or at least appear that way." 

"What do you mean?" I ask, knowing what was coming next. 

"I think you should try for Ravenclaw. You'll find it easier to befriend the sort you need to change our legacy to one of progress, not one of past regrets." Mother hints. 

"Like the Bones' girl?" I 'guess', playing it safe. The Bones family was highly respected and powerful enough to cause the Dark Lord to take care of most of them himself. The only people who escaped were Edgar Bones, his small daughter, Susan, and Amelia Bones, a judge. 

"Yes, although I say we should aim for someone even more respected." Mother hints. 

"You have someone in mind." I state. 

"Who better than Harry Potter?" Mother asks. 

"What would father say?" I ask, feigning worry. 

"He agrees." Mother says, a satisfied smile on her face. 

_Of course he does._ I think. 

The clock chimes. 

"Time to greet the guests." I tell her, using the excuse to leave.

I made my way down to entrance hall of our manor, hand trailing down the intricate wrought iron bars of the marble staircase. Mother had spent the day overseeing the house-elves decorating, while father spent his time in the kitchen sampling the food as it was prepared. I take my time, attempting to relax before the guests arrived so my smile could come naturally. By the time I arrive down four flights of stairs, a few guests were milling around, socializing. 

"Draco!" A very familiar shouted greeting, lacking in politeness but more than making up for it in enthusiasm and warmth, was all the warning I got to turn before Astoria Greengrass launched herself into my arms. I spin the slightly younger girl around (ten months), guests grinning or outright laughing at our display of affection. "How was your summer?" 

"A bit boring. I'm glad you could make it, darling." I tell her honestly, the smile on my face absolutely real. She beams back at me, light blue eyes warm and crinkled, as I set her gently down. 

Her long brown hair was down and curled, and I tuck a few stray pieces back behind her ears. 

"And Mrs. Greengrass, lovely to see you again." I greet Sophia Greengrass politely, bowing and kissing her outreached hand. Conor Greengrass gets a firm handshake, and Daphne, Astoria's sister that's my age, gets a kiss to each cheek. Daphne rolls her eyes at my antics, but laughs lightly and her pale cheeks turn a light pink. 

The Averys file in next: John Avery, a tall, looming man with a gruff voice, pale green eyes, light brown hair peppered with grey, a large beak-like nose, a beard and a vice-like grip, his wife, Potions Master Vivienne Chevalier-Avery, a gorgeous French witch with pale grey eyes and stick-straight black hair known for her intelligence; Belinda Avery, a girl in my year whom I personally can't stand, mostly because of she couldn't keep her abnormally large nose out of other's business, but also because she was a show-off with a mean streak; and Owain Avery, her twin. He was his father's son: demanding and controlling, with a volatile temper and a gift for curses, the same brown hair, eyes, and height as his father, but a normal sized nose and the patrician good looks of his mother. 

I greet them with handshakes and small talk, polite chit-chat for a few minutes before gesturing to the guest closet and giving directions to the ballroom. 

The next four guests get the same treatment: Dylan and Vincent Crabbe, Eric and Gregory Goyle just get more detailed instructions. Despite having been here before many times, I had trouble believing they'd be able to successfully and efficiently make their way down four hallways and take a left... something in their dull eyes gave me the impression they needed signs. Neither were my friends, nor my father's... Eric and Dylan were my father's lackeys at school and it continued on when they were Death Eaters together: father was in charge, they followed. My father expected the same sort of alliance with their sons and I, and forced us to spend time together, which was full of long silences or eating. Both were large, hulking, silent and broody types: Goyle had gorilla-like arms, broad shoulders, short and bristly brown hair, dull grey eyes, and clumsy and large feet; while Crabbe had dull black eyes, a bowl haircut, a heavier-set body, a thick neck, and the same gorilla arms and broad shoulders Goyle had. 

Millicent Bullstrode arrives with her cousin, Marcus Flint. Millicent was a hag-like girl in my year (actually has some creature blood, her grandmother was full-hag), heavy-set and pasty-skinned, with dark hair. Marcus was a Quidditch captain, a sixth year Slytherin and prefect, tall and troll-like. Jason and Terrence Higgins follow after: Terrence was the Seeker, a weedy-looking boy with reddish brown hair and a devil-may-care attitude. Terrence was trouble, attention seeking and obnoxious, while Jason had a motor mouth and crude tongue that never stopped going, the same slender build but with blonde hair and blue eyes. The four know where they're going and after a short greeting, they head to the ballroom.

Blaise Zabini, a model-handsome boy with slanting eyes and dark skin, jet-black hair spiky on his head, and haughty, aristocratic features heads in with Theodore Nott, a studious boy who looks out-of-place and awkward around so many people. I grin warmly at the pair, thanking them for coming, and get a short and friendly hug from each before walking with them, and Pansy, who followed in after. Pansy had an unfortunate face, hard and a bit pug-like, with a squashed-looking nose, black eyes, and straight black hair in a short, stylish bob. 

It takes hours, but finally, we finish eating and I invite the group to my private living room. My ancestor had been paranoid, so when he built the house, spells and wards were placed everywhere, and no animated portraits had been allowed in: I had no fears of anyone overhearing our conversation, just how it would end. I catch Severus's eye, and nod as we leave the room.

Once we're in my room, I clap my hands together. 

"Mipsy!" I call, and my house-elf appears with the butterbeer, and glasses filled with truth-serum spiked ice cubes. She bows deeply, handing each glass to my guests, then leaves. 

My guests settle in, and a short chit-chat about our summers happens. Once i hear a creaking floorboard, indicating Severus was listening, and the glasses of butterbeer are nearly drained, I speak. 

"My parents had a kind of odd request... they want me to befriend Harry Potter." I tell them, and a chorus of 'mine too, isn't that odd' 'so did mine!', 'really?' follow, each person looking more and more shocked that all our parents agreed on this. 

"Why do you think they'd want us to befriend him?" 

Jason Higgins asks. "Surely they haven't forgotten what side they were on."

"Of course not." Belinda scoffs. "It's for political reasons, surely. Most of our parents are in the Ministry or have ambitions to run for an office." 

"Not my mother. She's perfectly content shopping for husband number seven, and I guarantee Potter's not on that list." Blaise smirks, the familiar joke breaking some tension. 

"Then why would Blaise's mum want him to be friends with Potter, if not for a status leap?" I ask. 

"They want him dead. My dad is a shit liar." Theodore says, eyes downcast as he plays with the cap of a bottle of butterbeer. "I figured it out and asked. What do we do?" 

"Family comes first. We do as they ask." Pansy says immediately. 

"It doesn't seem like a very good plan." I dissent. "We protect our families first. We do nothing. If we went through with it, do you really think the public would rest unless they had everyone who ever supported the Dark's heads on a platter? We have to make a half-arsed effort for appearances sake, but that's all we need to do." 

Blaise nods his head, Theodore makes a noise of thoughtfulness, and Daphne agrees outright. 

"What about doing the right thing here?" Astoria asks. 

"And what would that be, eh?" Owain asks her, puffing up his chest and looming over her, attempting to look menacing. Crabbe and Goyle perk up at the promise of a brawl. Astoria's jaw sets and I know she's ready to let her fists fly any second... she had an infamous feisty attitude and fiery temper, took some self-defense classes, and had a particularly an excellent right hook. I place a supporting hand on Astoria's shoulder, letting her know I wouldn't let her down, and Blaise mirrors me. Theodore changes places to our side, and Daphne glares daggers at Owain. Lines are quickly being drawn in our allegiances. 

"Simple. We warn Harry. If our parents all had this idea, more will follow suit, and I don't want to know that my silence cost a boy our age his life." Astoria says, and Crabbe, Goyle, Millicent, Pansy, the Higgins, and the Averys all protest. 

"Don't be such a fucking goody-two-shoes!" Terrence says, and I drum my hand on the table three times, sharply, signalling Severus. 

Severus bursts in, wand drawn, and throws stunning spells in quick succession. I point out the dissenters, and Severus looks proudly at the four remaining. 

"That's four more friends than I expected I had." I tell him, after he finished modifying the dissenters memories. 

Severus reawakens Astoria, Daphne, Blaise, and Theodore. They bolt upright, stare at the other's still bodies in shock, but realize they're stunned, not dead.

"Sorry about that." I say sheepishly. "Had to make sure you'd side with my decisions before I admit to this, and I had to erase the other's memories... I alerted Dumbledore and Potter to the death threats. I met Potter at Madam Malkins, and rejected his friendship. I warned him off. I knew I was too young to offer much protection, which is why I involved adults. Please forgive me." 

"I need your vow that you'll support him. Otherwise, i have to erase your memories of this night." Severus adds. 

Astoria looks at him with wide eyes. "I thought you were dark." 

"Once, but no longer. Your vow." 

Each friend pledges to support me with this decision, and a weight lifts off my shoulder. I wasn't alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to introduce some OCs, mainly because the Houses need to be more balanced and there needs to be a strong antagonistic force of Slytherins, and without Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, I feel like the Light side is overpowering the dark way too easily. Basically, I needed Harry's school rivals/nemesis, and I wanted some of Draco's friends to stay with him. I'm a sucker for friendship fictions.
> 
> Also, as for why Pansy isn't Light: I think she loves the idea of Draco more than she ever loved Draco. Meaning, she'd balk at any changes Draco makes that she thinks are unfitting of the Malfoy name or Slytherin Prince title. She wouldn't do anything to risk her status, let alone her life. Her memory of Draco's switch in allegiances has been erased, however, Draco isn't giving up on her just yet.


	5. All Aboard the Hogwarts Express and the Sorting Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may seem like I’m bashing characters in this chapter. Remember, I am using Draco Malfoy’s point of view, so any character he’s not fond of, he makes mean comments about. It’s biased internal dialogue. I’m being biased here: I’m sure Crabbe and Goyle have some redeeming qualities, and Draco and Ron flat-out despise each other for quite a while still. I can add unreliable narrator and character bashing as tags, if you'd like.
> 
> Recognizable quotes are taken from Book One. I may paraphrase, sometimes I'll quote directly. McGonagall's speech is taken directly from Book One, as is the hat's speech.

August 18th, 1991

King’s Cross Station

London, England

 

Draco’s POV:

 

My mother muttered dangerously under her breath as she swept past Muggles, eyes narrowed and expression like she had dung underneath her nostrils, a hand guiding me to the right barrier by pressing against the small of my back. It was all I could do to keep up. Father carried my trunk behind us, glaring coldly at anyone who got too close.

We leaned up against the barrier, and mother used our need to be casual to start the Potter discussion again, as I now call it. 

“Now Draco, remember what we discussed in my room?” Mother asks.

“Of course. I’ll do my best, mother.” I tell her, faking earnestness. 

We pass through the barrier.

“You’ll succeed.” Father tells me, ruffling my hair in an extremely rare show of fondness, and guilt eats its way at me. “You’re a Malfoy, and we always-“

“Get exactly what we want.” I finish the sentence with him, and his gloved hand pats my back before withdrawing.

“Good. I also want you to work hard for your marks. Top of the year should be in your grasp already.” Father says.

“I’d better go.” I state, hands shaking slightly with nerves as I eye the train.

Mother gives me a hug, then father hands me my trunk. I hoist the thing with me, then climb onto the train. 

Towards the middle, I spot my favorite loner, nose already in a book: Theodore was alone in the compartment, for now. I knock, and he startles, nearly falling off his seat.

“Warn a guy, would you?” He grumbles.

“That was my warning, Theo.” I smile widely at him, excitement growing now that I was on the train.

I settle down into the compartment with my History of Magic text from my book-bag, and soon after, Daphne and Blaise make an appearance.

“You look like a bunch of Ravenclaws, already reading the texts before class starts!” Pansy rolls her eyes, rifling through her trunk to find a magazine.

“You might want to do the same, Pansy darling. Severus goes pretty rough on the first class, and we probably share with the Gryffindors. If they get something wrong, he’ll call on us to get it right. He won’t take kindly to us failing him.” I say when I notice the silence and tension in the compartment. I give the others pointed looks: all except Theodore, who was now far too absorbed in his book to pay any attention to us. We have to treat Pansy the same as before.

“He’s right.” Daphne says, and Pansy sighs but puts her magazine down, taking out a pristine copy of our Potions book.  
Crabbe and Goyle lumber in, and judging by their chortling, they were really excited for new food or had beaten a first year up. It would have been hard to say which, had they not been passing around a stolen toad.

“We are NOT losing points before the feast starts, you idiots.” I seethe, gently freeing the toad from Goyle’s grasp. “Where is the owner of it?”

The two look at each other, silent and confused.

“The toad’s owner. Where are they?! Where’d you get it from?!” I snap when it’s clear they couldn’t figure out what I was mad about.

“He should be looking for it, the blubbering fat arse. Doubt he knew we took it. Probably searching through the entire train.” Crabbe laughs, and I open the compartment door, heading out to find the owner. Daphne and Blaise follow me, bringing their wands in case someone thinks I stole the toad.

It takes nearly an hour, but finally, in the back compartment, a bushy-haired brunette led a large boy with a round face, dark hair, and ruddy cheeks into the last compartment, who, as Crabbe said, was crying and calling out a name I assumed was the toad. 

“Trevor!” The boy lights up when I hold the toad out to him.

“He must have hopped under a train seat when Crabbe or Goyle bothered you. I found him sitting there.” I lie to him, and he takes him from me. 

“Thank you. Uh… I’m Neville. Neville Longbottom.” He says, and I internally wince, remembering exactly what my aunt did to his parents… 

“I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy.” I tell him, offering a slight smile, and was interrupted by a boy laughing from the back compartment, presumably at my name. The door was fully open, and I easily recognize Harry from the robe shop, who was glaring at a tall, gangly freckled boy with flame-red hair… a Weasley, and where the laughter came from. “Yeah, I’ve got the worst name possibly ever.”

“Try having Longbottom as a surname, then complain to me.” Neville actually gives me a bit of attitude and a cheeky smile. 

“Try having your name mean Dragon of Ill Intent, then sass me, Longbottom.” I banter back.

I notice the brunette looking at my book bag, still slung on my shoulder from the beginning of the ride. I raise a questioning eyebrow, and she blushes.

“I was wondering: those aren’t all first year books, are they?” She asks.

“Some are. I need to read History of Magic more thoroughly, since the professor is supposed to be nearly impossible to listen to and remain awake for a lecture. Other than that, I have a few advanced Potions and Defense books-“ I begin, but get interrupted by Weasley.

“Why a Malfoy’d need books on defending themselves against the dark, I have no idea. Wouldn’t you just bow to whatever threatened you, instead?” Weasley sneers, and my fists clench. I have to force myself to breathe in deeply to calm down, and Blaise protectively flanks me, while Daphne puts a hand on my shoulder to calm me. Harry glares at Weasley, who backtracks and explains to him, “You’re new to the wizarding world. You have to realize this: some wizarding families are better than others. The Malfoys have been dark for ages, on You-Know-Who’s side, and slimy Slytherins to cap it all off!”

“Actually, I’m fairly sure I’ll be in Ravenclaw.” I interject, trying to give off the impression that his words didn’t cut me to the core, that I was calm.

“Ron… I don’t need anyone to tell me who the wrong sort are. I can find out for myself, thanks.” Harry tells him, clearly angry. “If you want to be my friend, I suggest you not tell me what to do or who to associate with. There are no more warnings.”

Weasley looks shocked, but grudgingly nods once he realizes Harry was serious. I attempt to remember how to lift my jaw from the floor… Harry Potter just defended me, a Malfoy, to a Weasley, the perfect representative of all things good, light, and Gryffindor?

“Who are your friends, Draco?” Harry asks, smiling shyly at me.

“Daphne Greengrass. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.” Daphne effortlessly turns on the charm, smiling warmly and waving at them. Harry’s attention barely wavers from me.

“Blaise Zabini.” Blaise says.

A round of introductions are made: the intelligent girl with bushy brown hair, intelligent wide brown eyes, and unfortunate teeth is named Hermione Granger, the rude Weasley is named Ron, there’s Harry Potter, and Neville Longbottom.

“I don’t know about you lot, but I’m starving. Let’s head back to our compartment.” I tell my friends.

“See ya, Harry, Hermione, Neville. Weasley.” Daphne smiles sweetly at the first three, then gives a pointed glare to Weasley.

I tug her away from their compartment.

“You turned down his friendship, Draco?” Blaise asks skeptically when we’re far enough out of their hearing distance. “He seems to think the world of you.”

“I don’t get it either.” I admit.  
…

The rest of the ride passes uneventfully. Finally, we arrived at the front of the castle.

"Firs' years! Firs' years, this way!" An incredibly large man with warm black eyes, a huge beard, and long hair boomed out, latern swinging and a dog next to him. 

All the first years gathered nervously around him, and four-by-four, we got into the boats, which were powered and operated by magic, and sailed off to the entrance hall. After a climb, which Owain Avery lamented forgetting his hiking boots and got glares for, we were led into the entrance hall, where an imposing, tall, and severe looking woman with a tight bun stood. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor and a member of the Order. Her eyes met mine, and I felt her probe at my Occlumency shields. I quickly reinforce them, then focus on just a brick wall, surrounding my mindscape. She nods approvingly at me, mind withdrawing. It was only a mild attack, for practice: there was no way if we had more time or if she put all her effort in, I would have blocked her. 

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She says, leading us into the Great Hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarted yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her sharp eyes lingered on Weasley, who had dirt on his nose, Longbottom's untucked shirt, and Harry's hair. He nervously attempted to flatten it. She left, and the first years began to whisper as soon as the door closed.

"What do you think we have to do to get sorted?" A plump, round faced girl with two golden plaits I knew as Hannah Abbot asks her friend, a redhead I recognized immediately as Susan Bones, the judge's niece, asks. 

"Some kind of test, maybe? Auntie Amelia didn't say." Susan replies. 

"Fred says we have to face a troll." Weasley remarks, and I scoff.

"We simply let the sorting hat decide." I explain when people look to me. "McGonagall will place it on our head, and it'll sort us based on where we fit most. The brave get Gryffindor, the ambitious Slytherin, the loyal Hufflepuff, and the intellectuals get in Ravenclaw. If you truly disagree with the sorting hat's ideas, you may select a different house before he calls it out."

I see many people calm down visibly. Owain Avery clears his throat and steps in front of Harry.

"So it's true then, what they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." Owain begins. "My name's Avery. Owain Avery."

Ron rolls his eyes, and I actually smile before catching myself. Belinda sees Ron's expression and chimes in.

"No need to ask who you are. Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe. You must be a Weasley. Father told me they have more children than they can afford."

Ron blushes, and I'm torn between amusement and pity. This would end badly. 

"Better than having children who act superior even though they aren't nearly worth what they think they are." Harry replies, then, smiling, "if that was an offer of friendship... no thank you."

She leads us into the dining room, where all the upper years were gathered according to house. The room was silent, and students craned to get a look at us. The stars were visible from the ceiling, one of the features I enjoyed most in Hogwarts. 

"I've read about the ceiling in Hogwarts, a History. It's been charmed to reflect the sky outside." Hermione informs another girl.

We gather around the stool, where a dirty old hat lay. Suddenly, it burst into song:

"Oh you may not think me pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be. 

You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends. 

So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The hall bursts into applause. Once it dies down, McGonagall begins reading off the list. I barely pay attention, more than a bit nervous. Hermione is sorted into Ravenclaw, Daphne into Ravenclaw. 

They get to the Ms, and I'm called up.

"Malfoy, Draco." 

I make my way to the stool and sit.

The hat is placed on my head, and it begins to whisper to me.

"What's this I see? You're an odd one for a Malfoy, aren't you? Brave, and already standing up to the Dark Lord. Loyal, though not blindly so. A thirst to prove yourself, and the means to get there... but you don't want Slytherin, I notice. I know exactly where you belong..."

"RAVENCLAW!" The hat bellows out, and the sudden silence from all the hall, followed by whispers is a stark contrast to the clapping everyone else got. 

I walk to my new house, sitting next to Daphne.

Daphne easily recovers and starts cheering, and Flitwick smiles and claps. The Headmaster toasts, and finally the Ravenclaws come out of their shock enough to give me a cordial, if subdued, welcome. 

Theodore sits across from me, having taken less than thirty seconds to sort.

"Potter, Harry?" The call brings everyone's attention to Harry, who looked nervous with all the attention.

The hat takes nearly a minute to decide, and the Hall is abuzz with noise from whispers.

"Did she say Harry Potter?"

"The Harry Potter?"

"RAVENCLAW!"

What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Two is coming up soon. I just need to update my plotting to reflect Harry's new House. 
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated.


	6. The Sorting Continued, The Feast, and The First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: This chapter does a slight backtrack to explain the Sorting Hat’s decision. I also change the POV multiple times in this chapter. Pay attention to the bolded sections.

August 18th, 1991  
**The Great Hall at Hogwarts Castle  
** **Somewhere Unplottable in Scotland**

**Harry’s POV:**

“Potter, Harry!” The stern-looking professor calls, and I take a deep, calming breath, remembering what Draco said about how if I got into Hogwarts, I’d be sorted. They didn’t make a mistake.

I walk up to the hat on slightly shaking legs, to whispers and stares. Students crane their heads to see me. McGonagall places the hat upon my head, and it begins to whisper.

“What do we have here? There’s courage, yes, and a good mind as well. And a nice thirst to prove yourself, that’s interesting. But where to put you?” The hat asks, and I look to the Ravenclaw table, where Draco sat. “Ravenclaw? You could be great in Slytherin, no doubt about that. It’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness.”

“Or it’ll kill me. I’d rather go where I know one person has my back.” I whisper back.

“Very well. If you’re sure. You’d do well in…” The hat whispers, then booms out, “RAVENCLAW!”

The hall goes silent, then a thunderous applause breaks out from the Ravenclaw table. I give the hat back to McGonagall, who looks a little stunned. Draco looks more than a bit surprised, but he applauds all the same. I take the seat next to him, beaming, and pay attention to the rest of the sorting.

Ron gets into Gryffindor, and gives me a rueful smile. I smile back, still slightly angry at him but willing to forgive if he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. Blaise Zabini is the last to be sorted into our House: Draco’s friend from the train. 

“Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.” The headmaster says, and I can’t help but stare a little.

“Is he… a bit mad?” I ask.

“Of course. All brilliant people are.” A dark-haired boy with a pin that reads Quidditch captain tells me. “Roger Davies. Ravenclaw prefect, Quidditch captain.”

The plates filled suddenly, causing first years to gape a little. Draco merely helps himself.

“I’ve seen you here before. You’re Professor Snape’s godson?” Roger asks Draco.

“I am.” Draco says.

“Can’t imagine him being much good with kids.” Roger remarks, and Draco shrugs.

“He worked well with me, at least. He’s a good person, once you get past the dungeon bat exterior and the sarcastic remarks.” Draco defends his godfather.

“Which one is he?” I ask, looking up at the staff table.

“The one in all black, with dark hair and black eyes.” Draco responds. “He’s talking to Quirrel right now- the man in the turban.”

I look up, noticing how he seems to be avoiding any and all contact with the exhausted looking man on his right. There was some hostility there, clearly.

“What does he teach?” I ask. 

“Potions. I’d recommend reading the book before class. He expects a lot from his students, but if you meet his expectations, you’ll go far.” Draco advises, and a few of the older Ravenclaws chime in, all agreeing.

“Do you know any of the other professors?” Hermione asks, clearly interested in learning all she could.

“Quirrel teaches Defense: I believe we get Lupin, instead, though. Professor Lupin is the one with greying blonde hair: he looks exhausted. He’ll teach years one, three, and four for Defense, and I’ve heard he can tutor for History of Magic.” Draco lists. “Professor Binns teaches History of Magic, and he’s not here. He’s a ghost, and that’s the most interesting thing about him. He’s a bore. There’s Professor Sprout: the small woman with flyaway grey hair, and she’s head of Hufflepuff, teaches Herbology. Professor Flitwick is the Head of Ravenclaw, and he teaches charms: if there’s any trouble, we can go to him. There’s Madam Hooch, who teaches flying and referees the Quidditch game. Professor Sinastra teaches Astrology and Ancient Runes. Professor Vector teaches Arthimancy. Trelawney, who isn’t here, teaches Divination and is a fraud. Professor Kettleburn teaches Care of Magical Creatures: he’s the bald man with burns everywhere. Professor Marchbanks teaches Muggle Studies. You’ve seen Professor McGonagall, and of course Dumbledore… I think that’s everyone.”

The conversation soon shifts into tips from older students, and Draco, on how to prepare for classes. Then, it changed to our families and their responses to magic.

“My parents were so surprised when they found out magic was real. They’re dentists, you see… very practical people, but once I made it into Hogwarts, they supported me.” Hermione shares.

“My aunt and uncle knew. They didn’t take it well, though, and tried hiding me away and destroying my letters. Hagrid had to come get me.” I share, and Draco whistles lowly.

“My family have mostly been wizards, and I showed signs of magic fairly early: I’ve been decent at illusions since I was six, and used them as distractions to get dessert early.” Draco smiles. “It would have been quite bad if I didn’t make it in.”

“Why?” Lisa Turpin asks.

“He comes from an all-magic family. They tend to disown Squibs.” Terry Boot answers, then eyes Draco. “I’m a halfblood, by the way.”

“That’s nice. It’s who you are that matters to me, not who you were born to.” Draco answers, and judging by the way Boot relaxes, he passed a test of some kind.

“What’s a Squib?” I ask.

“A person born without magic, despite having a wizard and witch as parents.” Terry answers. 

Suddenly, I feel my scar burn and touch it gingerly. When I look up, I notice Professor Snape glaring at me.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asks in an undertone.

“My scar.” I tell him in a whisper. “It burns.”

The pain disappears, but I don’t miss Draco’s look of concern.

The feast wraps up, and after the school song, we follow Roger Davies and Lindsay Graham, the two Ravenclaw prefects, up to Ravenclaw tower: on top of a spiral staircase, on the fifth floor.

“Mind the second steps of every staircase: they’ll make you sink. The staircases move, as well. Also, watch out for Peeves. He’s a Poltergeist that bothers all of us.” Lindsay advises us.

When we reach a door with large bronze eagle knocker, Roger clears his throat.

“The questions change every month. If you answer correctly, you may enter the common room. Answer wrong, and you’ll have to wait for someone to assist you.” Roger tells us.

“Where do Vanished objects go?” A voice booms out.

“Into nonbeing, which is to say, everything.” Roger answers, and the door swings open, revealing a large, comfortable common room, walls painted sky-blue, most accents bronze. There was a wall of windows, and every other wall held a few bookshelves. Armchairs surrounded a fireplace, which was roaring. “In Ravenclaw, we have a tradition of filling these shelves every year with either objects that catch our attention, mysterious artifacts, or of course, new sources of knowledge. You may check them out throughout the year, however, we ask you limit it to four books at a time for no more than a month each.”

“The dorms for the girls are up on the top right, so go up the staircase. The boys have the hallway. The first two rooms are for the first years, the next two are for second years, and so on.” Lindsay explains. 

Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brocklehurst, Su Li, Hermione Granger, Padme Patil, and Morag Macdougal head up the staircase to their dorms. I head down the hallway, which again held more bookcases between doors and lighted torches, followed by Draco, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot.

The rooms were assigned: Draco, Theodore, and I shared the first room on the right; Blaise, Michael, and Terry were assigned to the left room. Each person got a four-poster bed, a bookshelf, a desk, a wardrobe and dresser, and faced the windows. Everything was already set up: Draco’s bookshelves were filled already, and his bed had an extra white comforter. Theodore’s nightstand held what must be knickknacks from home, a photo album, and a planner: his bookshelves were piled with even more books than Draco’s. My area was a bit bare. Hedwig was set up on an owl post, and my supplies were all organized on my desk. 

“Night.” Draco called, after he changed and brushed his teeth. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry.”  
…

6:00 am, August 19th, 1991  
**Ravenclaw dorms, at Hogwarts  
** **An unplottable location in Scotland**

**Harry’s POV:**

I woke early, and, after taking a shower and getting dressed, I took Draco’s advice and began reading the Potions textbook. I finished three chapters by the time Draco woke up. Draco smiles when he noticed what I did and greeted me, then rushed into the shower. 

Once everyone was ready, we sling our book-bags over our shoulders and made our way as a first year group to breakfast, following some of the older students to the Great Hall. It was hard to eat, despite how delicious the food was.

“You’ll do fine. Everyone here is in the same situation: barely any of us had extra training before school. Maybe a few will do better, but by and large, we’re all starting out on even ground.” Draco reassures me. “Eat up.”

I bite into a sausage, a bit more comforted than before.

Partway through the meal, we get our schedules.

“Herbology, Potions, and History of Magic.” Draco clearly hates the idea of history of magic, judging by the way he sighed at the last class. “Herbology shouldn’t be too bad: we’re with the Slytherins, though. Potions is with the Gryffindors, and History of Magic is with Hufflepuffs.”

…

**Draco’s POV:**

When breakfast is finished, the first year Ravenclaws rush to the greenhouses, where a small, dumpy woman with flyaway grey curls and dirt all over yellow robes stood. After she introduces herself as Professor Sprout, we’re paired up and led into Greenhouse 1, full of relatively harmless plants. Susan Bones was partnered up with me, while Harry partnered with Hermione, Theodore was partnered with Hannah Abbot, Blaise was partnered with Ernie Macmillian, and Daphne was partnered with Justin Finch-Fletchley. Padme Patil partnered with Su Li, and Morag Macdougal was put with Mandy Brocklehurst.

I immediately noticed the tension Susan had in her posture as she sat next to me at a table for four: Harry and Hermione sat across from us. 

Professor Sprout started off with a lecture on how to care for bouncing bulbs, which took up half of the class period. She left us the last half of the class to handle the bouncing bulbs, which we would be graded on at the end of the quarter, judged by how well they grew and how the concepts we learned were implemented throughout the length of the project. 

I rifle through my notes, and quickly find how much time we need to spend on it per day.

“Do you want to take turns, or go together every day to take care of it?” I ask. 

“We’ll probably have to go together, so twice a day, before and after classes, we’ll meet in the Hall.” Susan says, voice coolly polite.

I was getting just a little tired of the tests and wariness that was displayed around me at all times, so I’ll admit I was annoyed at her attitude.

“What did I ever do to you?” I ask.

“You didn’t do anything. Your father, however, got off on a technicality for killing my cousins-“

“When I wasn’t alive.” I point out. “I’m not asking you to get over it, but can you at least stop looking at me like I’m going to break out a skull mask and start shooting off killing curses left and right?”

“You were raised by that monster-“ Susan gives up all pretense of calmness, eyes narrowed in anger and a little bit of fear.

“And I am not him. I don’t have to follow his path, nor do I want to.” I remind her. “Look, I don’t want a difficult year. I’m asking for you to give me a chance when you’re ready, to prove to you that I’m not capable of what my father has done.”

“Do you admit your father might be guilty?” Susan asks.

“I believe he’s capable of many things. I don’t know for a fact that he killed them, of course, but Amelia Bones wouldn’t lie to you about that case.” I respond. “If I could change him or the past, I would. I can’t, and I’m not responsible. Blame me if you want, hate me if you need to, but at least don’t make the year worse for both of us.”

Susan nods jerkily, and the class project is tackled in silence, but at least it was thoughtful instead of completely hostile.

…  
**August 19th, 1991 cont.**  
**Severus Snape’s office  
** **The dungeons of Hogwarts Castle  
** **An unplottable location in Scotland**

Severus’s POV

I thought I could be apathetic, calm, collected when dealing with Harry Potter, but the sight of the boy is enough to throw me back into the days where the Marauder’s thought they ruled the school, where I was bullied, hated, harassed. I can’t… even after eleven years, after the death of Potter, I just can’t let the grudge die.

Lily, I’m sorry. I’m not half the man you thought I was… I can’t forgive him for getting you killed. Yes, I’ll protect him, but don’t expect me to be nice.

…

August 19th, 1991 cont.  
**Potions classroom**  
**Dungeons of Hogwarts Castle**  
**An Unplottable location in Scotland**

**Draco's POV**

Harry, Hermione, Weasley, and I sat at one of the Potions tables, and I immediately got out the supplies I needed for the class. Harry follows suit immediately, then the rest catch on and follow my lead.

"How far did you get in the Potions book?" I ask Harry quietly.

"Three chapters." He replies.

"Footnotes included?" I ask, and he shows me his notes, which I nod approvingly at after a read-through.

Severus sweeps in.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but we caught every word- he had the gift of making a classroom quiet without any effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." More silence followed this little speech. Ron raised his eyebrows, and Harry took notes. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. 

I lean in close to her so I can whisper, "He'll never call on you if you act too eager. Remain calm, and you won't lose us points for a nonsensical reason."

Hermione relaxes a bit.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" 

"A powerful sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death." Harry answers promptly, causing Severus to pause visibly.

"Someone opened a book before class." Severus attempts a smile, but it looks broken. I immediately know there's something really bothering him, and it wasn't Harry getting a right answer. His eyes looked nostalgic and haunted for a second. "Another right answer, and you'll earn five points for your house. Tell me: where can I find a bezoar, and why would I need one?"

"A bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat, and it will cure you from most poisons, provided you swallow one in time. It's quick-acting, so if you have one it's best for fact-acting poison victims." Harry replies. Severus pauses again, and the haunted look is back. I recognize it this time... it's grief, loss, and regret. 

"Five points to Ravenclaw." Severus says, then looks away. "How about Mr. Finnigan? What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know, sir." Seamus Finnigan says.

"Five points from Gryffindor. Ms. Granger?" Professor Snape asks.

"There is none, sir. Monkshood and wolfsbane are other names for a plant that also is called aconite." Hermione replies.

"Five points to Ravenclaw. Why aren't you all writing this down?" Severus seems to regain his composure, and begins writing down required ingredients for the first potion: a boil cure.

"Good job, Harry." I congratulate him quietly as we gather the ingredients from the communal potion storage room.

"Something's wrong with him. He seems sad." Harry remarks.

"I'll explain what I know later." I promise, and he nods.

The potion goes off without a hitch for almost everyone. Neville's Potion melted through his cauldron, and Lavender Brown escorted him to the Hospital Wing. Weasley's potion was passable, Harry did extremely well, and so did Hermione and I. I helped them bottle and cork their potions, and gave them a quick instruction on how to clean their area properly. When the bell rings, I hang back. Harry looks like he's about to wait for me, but I gesture for him to go on, and he does. Severus sits down heavily, and I panic, just a bit.

"Are you alright, Uncle?" I ask.

"No." Severus says simply. "I saw Lily in him today. I wasn't prepared for it."

"You thought you'd get the spitting image of James." I fill in the blanks he left, and Severus nods, jerkily. "You thought you'd hate him. You don't."

"Perhaps I can learn to deal with him." Severus confesses, and I know this is absolutely a big deal for him to admit. "It will take time. Don't expect me to be good to him. I won't. I don't know if I can."

"I know you can." I smile at my godfather, feeling inexplicably like a proud parent for a second.


	7. Bullies, Brats, and Flying Class

August 19th, 1991. 6:30 am.  
Ravenclaw Dorms, at Hogwarts  
An Unplottable Location in Scotland

 

Harry’s POV:

When Theodore left for breakfast and our dorm was left to just Draco and I, Draco began to speak.

“I can’t say much without eroding my godfather’s trust. But your parents were and are, very much, still a big factor in Severus’ life.” Draco began.

He gestures for me to sit, and I cross to the bed opposite his and do so.

“It started with Lily. Severus lived near your mother, and they began a friendship that lasted until the end of their fifth year, just about. Severus doesn’t talk about the end, but he remembers your mother very fondly. He said she was brilliant in charms, was a dab hand in Potions, was charming, fierce, vivacious. On the other hand… James Potter, who you take after, and who Lily married, was a bully.” Draco looks apologetic, and I wince at hearing it, thinking about Dudley.  
I think about running from Dudley and his gang, and all the times I got caught and beaten, I think about the unfair punishments, the bruises I had to hide, the favoritism my aunt and uncle displayed… my dad was like that? I didn’t want to believe it, but Draco wasn’t lying, I could tell. I’m still hurt that I’m the son of someone who could act like that, but maybe my mother was much better? 

“I’m okay, go on.” I tell him.

“People remember the dead all too fondly, and forget their living victims. James tormented Severus. He was arrogant, rude, reckless, played ‘pranks’ that hurt and humiliated their targets. He was an attention seeking prat. Apparently he cooled down a bit after their fifth year, but only in public. If he could make sure it would never get back to Lily, he would have continued hurting Severus. So, when Sev looks at you, he sees James, but notices Lily’s behaviors. It’s no wonder he had a hard time yesterday.” Draco tells me. 

I mull the information over, and all I can think of is: James was Severus’ Dudley. I was angry, on Severus behalf, I was sad and disappointed in my dead dad, and I wanted to feel better about him. I look to Draco, who is watching my expression warily.

“Thank you.” I tell Draco, who looks startled.

“For what? I probably wrecked any illusions you had about your father, and you deserved those.” Draco asked.

“You aren’t treating me with kid gloves, or worship, or without anything but honesty. I bet it didn’t occur to you to lie to be nice to the orphan, or to suck up to me in order to get more popularity. You kept me safe and you tell me the truth. I can count on you… I’ve never had that before.” I say.

“What about your relatives?” Draco asks, and I laugh humorlessly.

“It’s the opposite. They treat me like I shouldn’t exist.” I tell him, and I see understanding in his eyes.

We went down to breakfast, and ate quickly, then got with our partners for the Herbology project. Susan Bones seemed more calm, if distant, with Draco instead of hostile, and I found it easy to work with Hermione if I just followed her directions, instead of trying to lead. 

…

August 20th , 1991 Continued, 8:29 am  
Transfiguration Classroom, at Hogwarts  
An Unplottable Location in Scotland

Draco’s POV

 

We’re almost late to transfiguration, but after an eventful start (McGonagall is an Animagus, as it turns out: a person who can turn into a specific animal form, then back), we attempt to turn a match into a needle, with mostly minimal results. We were with Slytherins, and I could tell by the burning gazes from Belinda and Owain when Hermione had a successful third try, that there was going to be some payback. Not many people raised with magic like it when someone new to it entirely outshines them. 

A piece of paper lands on her desk, and she opens it. I’m impressed when she remains composed, crumples the paper and heads to the trash bin, tossing it. I knew Slytherins were vindictive and creative with insults if inspired.

Another five are lobbed onto her desk, and I’m amazed at how she keeps collected, calm, even if her fists are clenched. By now, McGonagall’s noticed, having turned away from helping Lisa Turpin, and she takes the papers from Hermione. McGonagal’s face whitens with rage.

“The faster someone speaks up and tells me who did this, the more lenient the punishment will be. I’ll give you a minute.” She says.  
Neville Longbottom, who is sitting towards the back of the class, timidly raises his hand.

“Yes?” She asks.

“I saw Parkinson throw one.” He says.

I raise my hand. “Belinda and Owain did too.” 

I know there’ll be trouble.

I just don’t care enough to keep my mouth shut.

Two more students (Millicent Bullstrode, Jason Higgins) are reported, and McGonagall nods curtly. “Maybe if you five had brains, you wouldn’t need to rely on family lineage and a misconception about blood purity to make you feel special. Ten points from Slytherin, each.”

Class ends shortly after, and most people file out, including the professor. When I head out the door, I see some of the papers weren’t disposed of. On one, a drawing of a grotesque looking beaver in Ravenclaw robes was on its tip-toes, raising a hand. Written on it was “attention whore.”

One said “Go back to the filth you came from, you disgusting little Mudblood.”

Another simply called her an abomination. 

I tore them up, then bump into Granger.

“Having fun?” She asks bitterly, noticing what I was throwing away, and wrongly thinking I was one of the bullies.

“Absolutely not. You belong here, Granger. More than they do.” I tell her firmly. 

“How can you be sure?” She asks, a tear slipping down her cheek before she hastily wipes it away.

“Who has been successful at every lesson, without fail, so far? Who applies themselves and actively wants to learn? Rowena Ravenclaw would be thrilled to have you in her House if she knew you.” I ask her.

“I don’t have friends though.” She counters. 

“It’s still the first week.” I reply. “You’ve got plenty of time, Granger.”

“I think you can call me Hermione. And… thank you.” Hermione says, smiling at me when she composes herself. She hugs me tight for two seconds, and I notice the widened with shock brown eyes of Pansy Parkinson watching through the doorway. Belinda Avery pulls her away, smirking at me, and I know this’ll be the talk of the castle soon.  
…

Week 1 of Hogwarts: August 19th-22nd

Draco’s POV:

Classes, for the most part, were theoretical so we would understand before we picked up our wands, what we were doing, and why it would work. 

What most of us were excited for was flying class. Announcements posted on the dorm room bulletins stated that they began the first week of term, starting this Friday.  
Nearly everyone had a near miss story of almost getting caught by Muggles, or flying too high and nearly hitting something, and we heard them all in the weeks leading up to it.  
Owain apparently couldn’t keep his mouth shut about the one time he flew near a helicopter and ‘narrowly escaped’. Actually, I was there and what really happened was as soon as we saw it, he screamed and we both dove off our brooms, he got a broken arm, I bruised my leg, we were covered in mud and scratches, he ripped his pants, I destroyed my shirt, and we both swore to never speak the truth of the incident in public. 

Weasley played the game with his brothers, of course. Fred and George Weasley, the identical fiend twins of Gryffindor, are Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team currently, Charlie Weasley could have been a professional had he not gone off chasing dragons in Romania, so it made sense that they kept their skills up and practiced. I myself play in all-weather and have a rigorous training schedule. Father has season tickets to any game Bulgaria plays, since Karkaroff is a family friend, and I occasionally get to learn from them if they have time. 

Some gave tips: Roger Davies in particular was encouraging and helpful with those who had never flown before, and every night we gathered around to hear the basics of Quidditch and flying. 

Others stayed quiet, mostly those new to the magical world, but they soaked up the knowledge offered. Some were just uninterested.  
…

August 23rd, 1991  
Grassy Area used for Flying Lessons, Outside of Hogwarts  
An Unplottable location in Scotland

 

Draco’s POV

 

Twenty broomsticks were lined up outside of Hogwarts, on the grassy field where lessons for flying will take place. I took a spot next to an unused school broomstick, waiting for Madam Hooch to start the lesson.

Hermione looked nervously at her broom.

“They can tell when you’re afraid. Relax.” I tell her, and she gapes at me.

“Really? How?” She asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“Like a wand can tell who’s right for it, a broomstick can sense whether its rider is confident, and can disobey.” I reply. “No idea how, but many magical artifacts seem to understand more than you’d think about the user.”

Madam Hooch arrives, disrupting the conversation. The class murmurs, most excitedly, some with great nervousness.

“Good morning class.” She said.

“Good morning Madam Hooch.” We all replied.

We started class by commanding our brooms to rise into our hands: a simple “up” worked well for Harry, the Avery twins, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Jason Higgins, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, and I. Hermione’s broom rolled around. Lisa Turpin and Su Li’s didn’t move, Mandy Brocklehurst got hers on her second try. A look at the Slytherins showed they all got there’s to obey by their sixth try.

“Breathe, Hermione.” I tell her. “Relax.”

Hermione is visibly frustrated, obviously because this was the one class she wasn’t innately good at so far. Jason Higgins smirks, Belinda Avery is openly laughing, Pansy is whispering and giggling to her, and Hermione reddens with embarrassment.  
Belinda and Pansy’s smirks stop when I start coaching Hermione through it. They both look like they’ve swallowed something bitter. 

“Hold your hand outstretched, palm facing down. Think of the broom like a wand: use the tone you use to cast spells and command your wand on the broom. Firm tone.” I instruct.

“Up.” Hermione commands, and the broomstick finally jumps to her hand. She smiles at me.

“Ten points to Ravenclaw for teamwork.” Madam Hooch states from behind us.

Next, we’re shown how to mount a broomstick and hover in place. That’s where things went wrong. 

Hermione accidentally kicked off too hard, and struggled to get her broom under control. She was flying, but didn’t know how, and of course she landed badly. She tumbled, landing on her arm. A sickening crunch was heard, and Madam Hooch rushed over.

“I’m taking her to the Hospital Wing. If I see any brooms in the air, you’ll be expelled faster than you can say Quidditch.” Madam Hooch tells us, and guides Hermione to the castle. 

They disappear from sight.

“Hey, looks like the Mudblood forgot her books. Bet she’ll just die if they get wrecked.” Pansy says, and I whirl around. Pansy’s hovering in the air, on her broomstick, Hermione’s bag slung over her arm. “And look at this. Longbottom’s Rememberall!”

“Give it here, Parkinson.” Harry tells her angrily.

“Pansy, stop it.” I tell her. “Is a petty grudge worth getting expelled over?”

“Come and get it, if you want it, Malfoy, Potter.” She tells us, an excited grin on her face as she begins flying towards the lake.

Harry mounts his broom, and I hesitate but follow, determined to make sure Harry won’t get himself killed. I did not save him from my father in order to let him break his neck playing hero.

We fly towards her, and she panics when we gain on her. "Is a little crush worth ruining your family name and being disowned, Malfoy?" She asks, and I immediately realize she got the wrong idea from the hug in the transfiguration class. "Are you jealous, Pansy?" I ask, surprised, and her face reddens. She throws the Rememberall first, and Harry dives after it, then the bookbag, which I narrowly rescue from the lake. When 

I swoop down to check on Harry, there’s not a scratch on him, and in his hands is the Rememberall.

We race back to the castle, where Professor Flitwick stood. 

“Shit.” I swear quietly, then land, cringing and awaiting my punishment. Harry follows.

We’re guided to McGonagall’s class, where a befuddled Roger Davies is taken out of the room.

“I’ve found you a seeker, and a chaser.” Flitwick says to Davies. He looks to us. “Win the Cup, and I’ll take care of Hooch.”

“Deal.” I state.

…

August 23rd  
Ravenclaw dorms at Hogwarts  
An Unplottable location in Scotland

 

Draco’s POV

 

That night, I’m sent a letter.

In the envelope, was a picture of Hermione and I hugging, along with a letter that said: “Let’s see what your father’s reaction will be to his pureblood heir embracing a filthy little Mudblood. You’re a traitor to your family, your blood, and all of us. You started this, Malfoy.”


End file.
